


Nineteenth Century Breakdown

by Missy



Category: Psych
Genre: Banter, Crack, Crime Scenes, Fainting, Gen, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Humor, Trick or Treat: Trick, Very mildly so, jumpscares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Conversations over coffee lead to unexpected things.Very unexpected.





	Nineteenth Century Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveradept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/gifts).



“Spencer. You’re telling me that this so-called-ghost of yours literally yelled ‘boo’ in your ear, for the love of God. How can you expect me to believe you? The clichés are piling up so thickly I’m going to have to buy new rainboots to stomp my way through them.”

Shawn shrugged at Lassiter’s comment. They were having coffee in a haunted house, because of course they were. The latest vic was lying at their feet, covered with a sheet, the tips of their pointy witch shoes sticking out from beneath the sheet. “I think you’re not respecting the ghost as a ghostly being, Lassie.” 

“Is it possible to respect something that doesn’t exist?”

Shawn said, “Absolutely! I respect Abraham Lincoln!”

“Abraham Lincoln existed! He was the president!” Carlton said.

Shawn laughed. “Oh Lassie, you naive angel; the next thing you’re going to tell me is that oranges aren’t the only fruit.”

“I…please shut up,” Carlton grumbled. He reached blindly for the place where he’d left the lid to his cup. 

Only to feel something surprisingly warm and meaty.

Ghosts were supposed to be see-through, so he had no idea why the flickering image beside him felt so warm. It was a headless woman in period dress.

“BEWARE!” it shouted right into his face. “YOU WALK UPON MY GRAVE. YOU WILL FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF DOING SO!”

And then it was gone.

Carlton shrieked only once. A very solid, mature shriek. And then he was falling forward, into Shawn’s arms, and Shawn was holding him up. And he appreciated that, damn it, because fainting onto a corpse dressed like a witch to scare at Ho Ho’s Hut of Creeps and Shrieks was not an appealing way to die.

The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was, “Huh. I did NOT think this was a nineteenth century burial ground. Well, you learn something new every day, don’t you?”


End file.
